Chapter Nine:
Smoke on the Horizon
With Teacher Aneko's support, I made it through the few days it took to arrive at our destination. I bonded very quickly with her—quicker, even, than I had with my healer, Maemi—even though Sen would remain the teacher that I had grown the closest to. That, however, did not change the fact that I learned to love Teacher Aneko as well. The old lady was extremely calm, accepting, and gentle, displaying a power of patience that rivaled with the flow of Tao itself. At the same time, however, she was very strict and decisive when it came to her cooking—but I couldn't blame her. It was her way of life, and she was intent on making me understand that fact. After all, it was to become my way of life as well, and she only wanted me to grasp the fact that cooking would come to have extreme power and importance over my very well being. A badly cooked bowl of rice could lead to my downfall—it could have me beaten or even thrown out of a Master's care. Therefore, when I was still on my new Master's ship, I began my apprenticeship by learning just how hot to boil water in order to make rice fluff and stick—a skill I hadn't needed at the prison docks, where a sloppy mélange of ingredients could be passed off as stew. With Teacher Aneko's guidance, I had begun to master the art of rice cooking by our last unremarkable day on the ship.
I remember well when we arrived at Master's port. The memory stands out in my mind as one of my clearest. The port was amazing, in the grandest, bitterest sense of the word—a magnificent center of war, flashing gold and red as I saw it outlined in the light of the sunset on the horizon. Suzu had ushered us from our quarters, and was leading us across the deck. Slowly, the passengers on the ship were filing off onto the dock, but I found myself without the ability to move. I was speechless, on the verge of falling all over myself, unable to wrench my eyes from the sight of the scintillating port. I felt a fresh wave of fear overwhelm my body. It was then that Teacher Aneko took my hand, startling me. I turned to look at the smiling old lady, her wizened little face crinkled with lines that had seen many hardships, her eyes set on the gleaming buildings we were approaching. As I tightened my hand around hers, and followed master Suzu down the ramp to my new home, I knew that she was the strongest person I would ever know. Her touch gave me the strength to go on, as it had when I had first met her on the ship.
The kitchen at Master Zhao's docks was, of course, much larger than the kitchen on his warship. In fact, it wasn't just a kitchen—it was an entire building specifically made for the storage and preparation of food. Teacher Aneko and I had a special living area that was attached to this building; we needed to be close to it as we spent the whole of each and every day cooking for the numerous men around the compound. It was overwhelming, the requirements these men warranted—massive amounts of rice and soup, meat and vegetables, all prepared to a degree that I had never been expected to meet as a cook at the prison docks. I fumbled.
I found that Teacher Aneko, despite her kindness and her gentle nature, was now unforgiving when it came to my cooking. When we were on the ship, she had weathered my flaws. Now, however, my mistakes were punished with sharp raps on my hands or cheeks. She became a different person in the kitchen—that powerhouse I'd witnessed before—and I was forced to bend to her will. The little old woman would look up at me and lecture me on the importance of such-and-such, her hazel eyes angry, and I would languidly reply. There was something inside me, something from the days of the siege that didn't like this control, even though I knew somewhere inside that it was necessary for me to listen. That inner feeling was obviously something I had learned to suppress during my time at the slave docks, but now, for some reason, it was bubbling up again. It scared me. I found myself purposefully making mistakes, feeling that I could get away with them underneath the instruction of another servant, since she wasn't my true master. After I would make these deliberate errs, however, I would feel indescribably guilty, angry with myself for deceiving this little old lady who only wanted to guide me. In cooking, I would remind myself bitterly, remembering the sharp raps on my hands and the hissing words called at me from across the kitchen. All she wants is to make me a cooking machine. But no, Airlia, she wants to help you. You need to cook to survive, now. Your life depends on cooking. And furthermore, you are her student, so you would do best to learn. You know the requirements these men demand. If you don't shape up, and get rid of this attitude of yours, you will regret it. You know that.
Finally, I listened to the lecturing of my conscience, and learned quickly how to fry up a mean tempura in a time I had previously deemed impossible, make miso soup with the skill of a professional, and fry brown rice with savory shrimp morsels specifically for the Master himself. Teacher Aneko was pleased. I was amazed at myself. It seemed that I had actually, finally found a talent, and in the most unlikely of places. And what a perfect talent to have!
One afternoon, after I had prepared some leek soup and fried rice for my day of serving Master Zhao, Teacher Aneko called me to her. She had a dreamy look in her eyes.
"Kohana, could you tell me why you wear that bandage about your wrist? I have never seen you take it off."
I was startled. Bandage? I extended my arms, examining my wrists as though I had never seen them before. A piece of cloth was tied around my right wrist. It had been there so long that I had ceased to notice it. Why was it there? I touched it with the fingers of my left hand, running them along the scratchy fabric. There was something hard and bumpy beneath it. My eyes widened.
Gods, I'd completely forgotten! Jude's fire-charm bracelet! I had tied the dirty old strip of fabric around my wrist at the beginning of my time at the slave docks, in order to hide it from the slave-traders who would have forcibly removed it at first sight! It was a miracle that the displaced fabric had escaped notice until now, finally revealed under the observant eyes of Teacher Aneko. I blushed.
"Oh, my … my wrist hurts, now and then, and I wear this to help it …" I trailed off, noticing Aneko's eyes grow stern.
"Kohana." I swallowed. "I can tell when you are lying, child," she said softly. "Be truthful to me." I breathed heavily.
"I promise, it's just a decoration, a—" Teacher Aneko reached out and snatched my arm into her wrinkled hands, her slow, strong, ever-gentle grip unrelenting, and peeled back an edge of the fabric. A little flame-shaped charm dangled out, a ruby glinting fire-red in the center. Aneko's eyes softened, and she replaced the fabric, returning my arms to me.
"Who gave that to you?"
"Jud—a boy I knew in my village." She looked at me knowingly, suspicion gleaming in her eyes.
"Finish telling me his name, kohana." I was afraid. If I told her his name, she would certainly know who he was.
"His name was … was J-Juden. Juden." There was silence. Finally, Teacher Aneko nodded to me, and, with a gesture of her hand as though she was sweeping me away, left me to my serving duties.
"You may bring the Old Master his luncheon, kohana," she called after me. I watched her small form retreat until she was back in the living quarters of the building, far from sight. I breathed a sigh of relief, and, making sure my rediscovered bracelet was covered—conscious of it now—picked up the tray of food destined for Master Zhao, and left the kitchen building.
Muffled voices drifted down the ostentatiously decorated hallway of the Master's living and planning compound. Inside his greeting room, Commander Zhao was speaking with the steward, Suzu, about a seemingly important manner. His face was turning red with indignation.
"Suzu, I told you not to present the Fire Lord with that information!" bellowed Zhao angrily. The manservant grimaced.
"I did not, milord! I merely gave him the chart detailing the number and status of the prisoners we are holding in the dungeons; it wasn't—" The commander waved his hand, dismissing whatever else the steward wished to say. He closed his eyes.
"Silence, Suzu. My lunch has arrived."
I jumped. I had unwittingly heard a piece of the fire master's conversation whilst I was standing in the corridor outside, my hand barely touching the latch to his ornate doorway. I almost spilled leek soup and tea all down my front. Collecting myself, I opened the metal doorway, and stepped inside, head lowered accordingly so that my eyes did not disrespectfully meet Master Zhao's or Suzu's.
I bustled across the room, placed the tray of food on the table before my master, and bowed low, backing away. Suzu watched me, his lips pursed, as though I had ruined something very important. Master Zhao, however, looked relieved, and immediately began enjoying the lunch I had prepared, starting with the soup. He slurped with relish.
"Suzu, you may leave." The manservant bowed hastily, and left with one last incredulously perturbed glance at my humble form.
I waited in silence as Master Zhao finished off the soup, and sipped his tea with a satisfied sigh. After swallowing a few bites of fried rice, I listened dubiously as the Master actually addressed me. Me, a servant! A slave!
"Airlia, wasn't it?" he mumbled, filling his mouth with another bite of fried rice. I bowed lower.
"Yes, Master." My heart was pounding. Why was he speaking to me? Had I done something wrong? The commander swallowed, sipped a little more of his tea, and beckoned me to him with a large, calloused hand.
"Refill my teacup." I approached obediently, and refilled the small cup without pause. He watched me interestedly. "I like to know my servants' names. It helps me to better understand them." I bowed, and backed up from his table, though not so far this time, in case he needed his tea refilled again.
"Master is very wise, to ask after his servants' names," I said. Zhao grunted, grinned, and nodded, sipping his fresh tea. He smacked his lips.
"I'd like to ask you, girl: what part of the country are you from? Your name does not seem traditional." He bit into a morsel of shrimp. I swallowed.
"I—I am not from this country, Master," I mumbled. He sipped his tea calmly, his lips curling into their characteristic, familiar sneer. I had a feeling that he slept with his mouth in that position.
"Ah. That would explain." He finished off his rice, and washed it down with the tea. "More tea," he said gently. I moved forward, refilled his cup, and moved back.
When he had finished this cup, he leaned back, stretched, and heaved a great sigh. I was silent. Then he stood, beckoning to me that he was finished. I darted forward and snatched up the tray with the dirty dishes, prepared to leave in the flurry expected of most servants. The Master, however, addressed me one last time.
"Airlia, your service pleases me. Inquire of Aneko and tell her that I would prefer it if you brought me my luncheon every day. I will see to it that you are treated with more hospitality from the other slaves." My face flushed with heat and blood.
"Thank you, Master," I murmured. The commander approached me as he had the day I had boarded his ship, and cupped his hand underneath my chin, lifting my face to meet his. I met his eyes with my own. His face softened as a genuine smile graced his features. Then he beckoned for me to leave, crossing the room again to slouch on a cushion. I blinked, and then left in a flurry. Once out in the corridor, I allowed myself time to think. I was his personal waitress now? What had I done that had impressed him? Was I really that good of a cook? My face was burning with my spiteful self-satisfaction and pleasure. I touched my cheek.
It felt like fire.
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